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BROWN-EYED SUSAN 


THE LITTLE BOOK PUBLISHER 
All Rights Reserved 



SUSAN 




BROWN-EYED 

SUSAN 


BY 

GRACE IRWIN 


ILLUSTRATED 



THE LITTLE BOOK PUBLISHER 
ARLINGTON, N. J. 

1917 



Copyright, 1917 

By The Little Book Publisher 



MAR -2 1^31? 


©Ci.A455902 


TO 

MY MOTHER 



















BROWN-EYED SUSAN 



BROWN-EYED SUSAN 


CHAPTER I 

“ Susy, Sus-y, Susan ! ” called Mrs. Yorke. 
‘‘ See here. See what I have ! ” 

‘^What is it?” Susan answered precisely, 
her eyes fixed solemnly upon her mother’s hand 
which waved a small piece of white paper. 

“ Susan Yorke, it is an invitation to Dor- 
othy Taylor’s party. A real party for my 
Susan. Come and read it, dear child.” Mrs. 
Yorke held out the magic bit of paper to her 
small daughter. 

Susan took the tiny white envelope and 
opened it, her eyes wide with surprise. 

‘‘ Dorothy Taylor — why. Mother, she hardly 
ever speaks to me. We are just in the same 
Sunday-school class, that is all. I never went 
to a party, did I, Mother? Not even when I 
was a little girl, I never went, did I, Mother? ” 
You are not very old now — twelve is not 
1 


2 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

very old! Susy, Susy, it means a new dress, 
a lovely new dress for you! My, my, but you 
will have a fine time — I” Mrs. Yorke’s eyes 
were glowing with pleasure ; her voice trembled 
with the joy in store for little Susan. 

“ What do people do at parties. Mother? ” 

“Do?” Mrs. Yorke laughed softly. “Why 
— play games and eat sweet things. They al- 
ways wear their finest clothes, and everybody 
acts their very best! You have heard of com- 
pany manners, Susy? You always are well be- 
haved and polite, so I needn’t caution you. 
But you will find that those children you do not 
like, who seem so rude and naughty, will be 
quite different at that party.” 

“ Do not make me a new dress, Mother — 
that beautiful rose-colored one will do. It was 
the prettiest dress you ever made! I love it. 
Mother.” 

Mrs. Yorke smiled with pride at her past 
success, but shook her head positively. 

“ No, no, Susan,” she cried eagerly, “ I have 
a splendid idea for a new dress. Your first 
party must be something that you will always 
remember,” and Mrs. Yorke fled to the kitchen. 

Susan seated herself in an arm-chair by the 


3 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

window and gave way to dazzling thoughts. 
Her usually pale cheeks were burning and her 
eyes were nearer black than brown. 

Susy, dressed for that party, was reviewing 
herself complacently before the mirror. 

“ There will not be another child in the room 
like you, my Susy,” and Mrs. Yorke smiled hap- 
pily. “ I used up all Aunt Cornelia’s dress and 
some of Cousin Charlotte’s. The lace is excep- 
tionally fine; I was afraid I couldn’t get it all 
on, so I made the skirt longer. The sash is a 
pretty thing too; it tied back the portieres in 
your grandfather’s big drawing-room. You 
look very nice, little daughter.” 

She almost purred as she gazed up and down, 
in and out, around and about, her masterpiece. 

“ I wish — ” and she frowned slightly — ‘‘ I 
wish that it hung better. Perhaps if I looped 
another ruffle along that left side it would be 
more even.” 

“ Oh, Moth-er ! ” Susy remonstrated ; “ I 
haven’t time. But,” she added politely, for 
these two were most ceremonious with each 
other, ‘‘ thank you for this beautiful dress. I 
think that it is just right the way it is.” 


4 


Browri’Eyed Susan 

Mrs. Yorke kissed Susy and gave her into 
the charge of old Annie. Susy walked primly 
down the street beside the fat old colored 
woman, conscious of the fact that few of the 
children coming to the party would be attended 
by a servant. 

She accepted her lot as a matter of course, 
just as a royal princess accepts her coach and 
livery. 

Susan eyed her reflection in the shop win- 
dows with pleasure. Unconsciously she felt 
that shop windows were for her express delight. 
Never, never before had they twinkled with such 
gorgeousness ! She was wonderful ! 

Susy, upon that day of Dorothy Taylor’s 
party, was practically a living “ Trunk-in-an- 
attic.” Children would have liked to rummage 
her on a rainy day ! She was rich in antiques, 
heirlooms and family relics; she was parading 
several generations and conglomerations of 
tastes. Her Aunt Cornelia and her Cousin 
Charlotte would, figuratively speaking, have 
come to blows on the subject of dress. But 
both their opposed tastes were huddled together 
on Susan’s small person. 

Annie left her at the door and Susy was told 



“ 1 never went to 
a party, did /, 
Mother? ” 


5 


6 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

to run up-stairs and take her wraps off. Mrs. 
Taylor might as well have told her to fly — as 
to run. Both were physical impossibilities. Su- 
san never ran. She ascended the stairs with 
rare grace and dignity. That is how Susan 
always got from one floor to another, with rare 
grace and dignity. 

There was not a child in that up-stairs bed- 
room who looked in the least like Susan Yorke. 
She was distinctly different. 

As she came into the room the flutter, flutter, 
stopped a moment and all eyes turned in her 
direction. This was as it was meant to be, 
Susy reflected. 

One little girl, one of those generally rude ” 
children, forgot her company manners for a 
second and giggled. Instantly she remembered 
that she was at a party and tried to stuff the 
laugh down her throat with her two hands. 
Her giggle was followed by a strained uneasy 
hush. The hush continued as Susy removed 
her wraps. 

Then a nervous chuckle broke the silence, and 
the little girls all rushed from the room laugh- 
ing and shoving one another in their haste. 
Susan was left alone. 


7 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

She stood before the mirror and viewed her- 
self again, less complacently than before. Her 
dress was so different! Her long reddish gold 
hair was curled so evenly, so round, the curls 
beginning close up by her head and hanging 
below her waist. There were eight curls. 
Mrs. Yorke had several years before bought 
half a dozen kid curlers and had given Susy two 
of hers besides, and every night her hair was 
done up most carefully. 

She shook herself, rustled her dress, primped 
up her hair ribbon and decided that the strange- 
ness of the children’s departure had nothing to 
do with her. Then she descended the stairs 
with the same rare grace and dignity. 

Although this was Susy’s first party, she did 
not enjoy it at all. Without exactly being dis- 
loyal to her mother or questioning her knowl- 
edge of parties, Susy felt that there were some 
children brought up in exterior darkness who 
had never heard of ‘‘party manners.” Those 
children at Dorothy Taylor’s party were, if 
anything, a little worse behaved than usual. 

As Susy watched some goldfish, she began to 
wonder when the good time would begin. Oc- 
casionally she turned her head in disdain at a 


8 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

game of ‘‘ post office ” that was making riotous 
confusion in the next room. 



“ That is not fun ! ” she commented to the 
goldfish. Being fish, they agreed with her. 

A kiss for you, Susy ! ” yelled Mildred 
White. “ A kiss from Willie.” 


9 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Susy jumped to her feet in dismay. 

“ I didn’t say her^ I didn’t — her! Oh, gee ! 
Let me go 1 Let — me — go ! ” Willie bellowed 
loudly and furiously, Willie was eleven and 
party manners and girls’ kisses were matters 
of extreme indifference to him, until he was 
aroused. Now he was thoroughly aroused and 
fighting mad. 

Mrs. Taylor poured oil upon the troubled 
waters. She announced that perhaps she had 
something nice for them in the other room. 
The real climax, the greatest joy of a party, 
is the refreshments. Susy forgot her fright 
and actually hurried with the rest of the chil- 
dren into the dining-room. 

Then it happened ! Little Marian Scott, 
clutching a “ snapper,” let go too suddenly and 
tumbled against Susy. Susy’s dish of ice cream 
turned turtle and landed in her lap. Literally 
and figuratively she sat frozen stiff with horror. 
Was it Aunt Cornelia or Cousin Charlotte who 
had the benefit of this frigid plunge into society 
again ? 

Susy was too shocked to move or think. She 
looked almost ridiculous sitting bolt upright in 
her chair, her eyes wide with terror and fas- 


10 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

tened on some point ahead of her ; a plate of ice 
cream floating about in her lap. 

Pandemonium broke loose. Marian began to 
cry — the other children laughed. Mrs. Tay- 
lor and three visiting mothers rushed to Susy’s 
assistance, pulled back her chair and began 
scooping up the cream. Mrs. Taylor was, Susy 
could plainly see, trying to keep from laughing. 
Mrs. Gorden, who was sponging the soiled spots, 
had her head lowered but Susy could see that 
her shoulders were shaking convulsively. 

This, however, was not the most unpleasant 
thing that happened to Susan Yorke upon the 
day of Dorothy Taylor’s party. It was not 
the thing which made secure her mother’s hope 
that the first party should be remembered for all 
time. Susan was indeed never to forget that 
party. Susan was never to forget that dress. 
She overheard a conversation I 
‘‘ It’s such a funny looking dress you wouldn’t 
think that she’d mind, would you ? ” 

And the answer came: 

“ Funny looking? Why, it’s crazy! ” 

There was no mistaking whom they meant. 
Susan Yorke’s wonderful dress was — crazy 
looking! 


11 


Browri’Eyed Susan 

Mrs. Yorke was nearly heartbroken when she 
saw that big greasy stain. She had worked and 
fussed over that dress so! Susy did not care 
herself, for she had taken a sudden aversion to 
it — she never wanted to wear it again. 

But she did wear it many, many times. It 
was made over for school — as it was impossible 
for ‘‘ best.” Mrs. Yorke ingeniously covered 
up the stain with bow knots here and there. 
Those bow knots served two sacred purposes; 
they were for use and beauty. And what more 
could a poor bow do ? But Susy did not appre- 
ciate her mother’s skill to the full. The dress 
was, to her, far from a dazzling success, even in 
its new capacity. She should have felt radiant 
in silks and laces for every day. But she did 
not! 

Susan had learned that her clothes, her ways, 
were not as other children’s. She did not thank 
God for this difference. 


CHAPTER II 


The day of Dorothy Taylor’s party was but 
a sharp, unpleasant memory to Susan Yorke, 
High School Senior and eighteen years old. 

But the problem which that tragic occasion 
had precipitated loomed as dismally as ever on 
Susan’s horizon ; in fact in all the six years that 
lay between, it had never once left her. At first 
she had attempted to control her mother’s un- 
limited energy and enthusiasm for dressmaking. 
She had hardly known how to go about it, for 
Mrs, Yorke’s feelings would have been cruelly 
hurt had she suspected Susy’s dissatisfaction 
with her clothes or known her intense longing 
to be more like other girls. She had tried bring- 
ing home the free fashion sheets from the dry- 
goods stores. But her mother would smile in a 
tolerant, rather remote fashion and say: 

‘‘ I don’t have to buy patterns. I manage 
so well without them. A penny saved, my 
child, is a penny earned.” 

12 


13 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

‘‘ It would be easier, Mother,” Susy would 
explain, desperately hoping that her mother 
would take the offered suggestion. 

“Easier.? Good gracious, Susy, I never did 
see how any one could make a dress out of 
that mass of tissue paper! Why, I haven’t 
the remotest idea what to do with a pattern. 
I bought one once and I gave it up in despair 
and used the paper in my cake tins ! ” 

“ I’ll show you. Mother, just once. Why, 
it must be easier, it must be I ” Susy would per- 
sist, her heart sinking within her. 

“ All right some time, some time, dear,” Mrs. 
Yorke would vaguely promise. On other oc- 
casions she would resent Susy’s suggestions 
with : 

“ Do you think your mother is getting old ? 
My dear little daughter, I can and will be able 
to do for you until the end. A mother is a 
mother for all time. It will be the same with 
you, dear heart; you will want to work for 
your daughter forever.” 

“ Mother ! ” Susy cried, the tears glistening 
on her lashes. “You are making a selfish pig 
of me. I let you do everything for me.” 

But such conversations were fruitless. Mrs. 


14 Brown-Eyed Susan 

Yorke went right on making her queer, outland- 
ish clothes and Susan went on wearing them. 

Mrs. Yorke had alw^ays been enormously 
proud of Susan; she could not do enough for 
her. She was proudest of Susy’s progress at 
school and she attributed the girl’s friendless 
childhood to her unusual brilliance. It was to 
her a mark of distinction that Susan should 
stand alone; petty jealousies and human frail- 
ties would, of course, force one so gifted into a 
lofty sphere. But in the depths of her heart 
was a disturbing doubt. Was Susy altogether 
happy in this isolated existence? 

“ Susy,” asked Mrs. Yorke one day, “ why 
didn’t you ask that young man in?” Susan 
had just come home from High School. 

‘‘ Because, Mother, he’s a — ‘ nut ’ ! ” 

‘‘A — what? A — which?” gasped Mrs. 
Yorke, bewildered. 

“ A ‘ nut,’ Mother,” Susy smiled faintly at 
her mother’s puzzled expression, but answered 
positively. “ That is what Olive Wright 
called him. He asked her to a dance and she 
refused to go with him. He asked me, to-day.” 

“To go to the dance? A dance?” Mrs. 
Yorke’s face lit up with joy as it had that day 


15 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

long ago when the invitation had come from 
Dorothy Taylor. 

“ Yes ! ” Susy answered listlessly, her head 
turned away. 

“ You will have to have a new dress — ” 

Susy shivered. “ No, Mother, I am not go- 
ing ! ” 

“Not going, Susy? I want you to go. I 
want to go, too, and sit with Mrs. Ward and 
Mrs. Walker and the other mothers and watch 
the young people. Mrs. Ward says she is liv- 
ing her youth all over again in Hazel — ” 

“ When did you see Mrs. Ward? ” Susan in- 
terrupted. 

“ Why, I heard her telling Mrs. McAllister 
about the Senior dance — ” 

“Oh, I see. No, Mother, I am not going. 
Anyway I dance badly. I am not much to 
watch.” 

“ You are always good to look at, my Susan.” 
Mrs. Yorke was deeply disappointed and a lit- 
tle perplexed at Susan’s tone. 

“Am I really? Tell me the truth.” Susan 
raised her eyebrows, and in mock-seriousness 
turned to her mother to await the painful 
truth. 


16 Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ You’re my brown-eyed Susan, with hair like 
the petals of those flowers. It is like gold, 
burnished gold.” 

Aren’t those flowers black-eyed Susans ? ” 
and Susy laughed dryly at what she felt to be 
an extravagant metaphor. 

“ But your eyes are not black ! ” 

“ Of course that gives you a poet’s license 
to change the name of the flowers ! ” Susan 
looked at her mother in amusement. ‘‘ But I 
wish I could fix it as Hazel does — ” Susy’s 
face was listless again. 

‘‘Fix what.^” Mrs. Yorke was plainly at 
sea. 

“ My hair!” 

“ Hazel Ward I ” cried Mrs. Yorke. “ Hazel 
Ward fixes her hair like an actress ! ” 

“ I wish that I could fix my hair like an 
actress.” 

“Like an actress!” Mrs. Yorke was hor- 
ror struck. “ Susan, Susan! You are so dif- 
ferent from the cheap, shoddy, noisy crowd of 
High School girls who flock by here. Their 
powdered noses, and outlandish coiffures ! And 
you want to be like them, you want to be like an 
actress ? Susan, don’t ever let me hear you say 


Brown-Eyed Susan 17 

such a thing again.” Mrs. Yorke had never 
spoken so firmly, so sharply, before. 

Susan, did not even give her ceremonious an- 
swer of “ Yes, Mother.” She remained per- 
fectly quiet and passive. 

“ Susan,” — Mrs. Yorke was stung and 
wounded by her daughter’s silence — “ say I 
am right, Susan. Remember, dear, that you 
are going to be a teacher. Remember that 
teaching is almost as fine and dignified a pro- 
fession as the ministry.” 

“ Yes, Mother,” came Susan’s dutiful reply. 
She kissed her, and left the room quietly. 

Susan sat by her window that evening, re- 
viewing the events of the day. 

“ I can’t talk to boys like Hazel or Edith — 
or Olive or even Barbara. They are so — cute ! 
I wish I could, I wish I could ! 

‘‘ Why do I get so fussed and rattled? Per- 
haps it is because I feel that I don’t look as 
nice as they do. 

“ I was tongue-tied even with a ‘ nut ’ ! ” 
The thought of this was too much for Susy to 
bear and she buried her head in her arms. Pres- 
ently she looked up and brushed a few tears 
away. 


18 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ Oh, what a crazy goose I am ! I am dif- 
ferent from the other girls and I can’t make 
myself over. Probably the things that interest 
them will never come to me,” She lighted the 
gas, opened her Burke’s “ Speech on Concilia- 
tion ” and banished these worries for the time 
being. 

Susan had always stood at the head of her 
class in almost every subject. She was not 
particularly brilliant, it was rather her steady 
application that had given her the lead. Be- 
sides, unlike most of the pupils in Manleyville 
High School, she shared her work with few 
pleasures ; and when it was announced that she 
was to be Valedictorian of the graduating class, 
she accepted the honor as a matter of course; 
she felt no thrill. Deep in her heart had 
come a longing to take a part in the informal 
jollification of “ class night,” but she put it 
swiftly out of her head as ridiculous. She 
knew that her lot of knocks ” and her class 
gift would be quite stupid and deadly unin- 
teresting. She would be dismissed promptly 
with some inane comment on the excellence of 
her work. No one would laugh, no one would 


Brown-Eyed Susan 19 

clap. Her mother alone would enjoy the sit- 
uation. 

For Edith and Olive there would be numerous 
jokes and puns about the future, and pointed 
hits at some particular beau.” The audi- 
ence would be delighted and applaud uproar- 
iously. The girls would look embarrassed and 
annoyed, — but they would repeat their “ dis- 
pleasure ” to every partner at the dance after- 
wards. 

Sometimes Susan envied these girls and at 
such times her pride swallowed up her envy, 
and she called the resulting emotion — con- 
tempt. 

She felt that she had a dignified contempt 
for their sorority and frat ” chatter, for 
their fudge parties, and for their everlasting 
squabbles. They all had boys ” on the brain 1 
Bah! 

And so Susan Yorke left Manley ville High 
School just as she had planned. Class Night, 
Commencement, were as she had known they 
would be. Of course she did not know of the 
comments in the audience the night that she 


20 Brown-Eyed Susan 

said “ Farewell ” to the things of her child- 
hood. 

“ What a lovely rich voice ! ” 

‘‘ In that white dress (what a pity it isn’t the 
right length) Susan Yorke is almost good look- 
ing.” 

‘‘ What wonderful hair ! ” 

And then the audience dismissed her from its 
thoughts. The flowers were gathered up, good 
wishes exchanged, and the auditorium, disor- 
dered and empty, was left to the weary janitor. 

Susan Yorke at eighteen was a young woman ; 
her girlhood was to come later, very much later. 
Normal School did not make her any younger; 
Normal School is for no such frivolous purpose. 
And yet, at Normal, Susan for the first time 
became familiar with her own sex. The girls 
who had more or less ‘‘ blulFed ” through school 
found her a great comfort. Clothes and boys 
were not the biggest features now, and she met 
them on a common ground. 

A prophet is not without honor save in his 
own country. Susan had been classed as a 
“ frump ” in Manley ville, but at Normal she met 
new girls, girls without a life-long prejudice 
against her and her queer ways. 


21 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Thus was the first barrier overturned and 
the first real friends made. 

A new world was opening to brown-eyed ” 
Susan. 


CHAPTER III 


I AM sorry, — and yet I think that you will 
find Mulberry interesting.” 

Mr. Allen, the superintendent of the Wood- 
vale schools, was talking to Susan. I meant 
that you should teach in the new Washington 
School, but I find that I have to put you out at 
Mulberry. Very, very, interesting — Italians, 
— nearly eight hundred of them. They are 
bright and quick — the teachers out there would 
not change for anything.” Mr. Allen gave the 
impression of overdoing his praise. It did not 
sound sincere or convincing. He did not look 
at Susan as he spoke. 

‘‘ Oh, that is all right. I am sure that I shall 
like them,” Susan assured him. 

‘‘Of course! Of course you will! You are 
just the sort of teacher for those — those little 
aliens. You would not be happy with the 
hand-embroidered, spoiled, over-dressed kind. 
These Italians are natural, hearty and whole- 
22 


23 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

some.” Mr. Allen smiled sweetly, a little too 
sweetly Susan felt, without knowing just why. 

Like your boarding-house. Miss Yorke.^* ” 
he abruptly changed the conversation. 

‘‘Yes — oh yes — I think so ! ” Susan an- 
swered quietly. 

“ I am sending a young man out to Mulberry 
too, a fine looking chap — ” Mr. Allen tapped 
the table with his pencil and chuckled. 

Susan stared at him solemnly and coldly. A 
sudden feeling of homesickness stole over her. 
Her mother — Normal — even Manley ville. . . . 

“ Well, I’ll take you to Mulberry. Are you 
curious.^ ” Mr. Allen jumped to his feet. 

“ Very ! ” came the hearty response. 

They turned their backs on the prosperous 
town of Woodvale and walked towards the low 
level ground that bordered on the salt marshes. 

“ Mulberry Hill ! ” Mr. Allen was facetious. 
“ Mudbury Flat it ought to be called. Quaint 
looking, isn’t it.? ” 

“ Yes — ” Susan hesitated. The ugliest, 
most miserable scenery that she had ever be- 
held in her life — quaint.? 

“ That odor you get is from the dumps and 
when the wind is in the right direction, from 


24 Brown-Eyed Susan 

over the meadows, you get another from a 
‘ bone yard ’ — sweet ? ” 

Susan tried to keep her lips steady, she felt 
them trembling. She could not trust herself 
to answer. 

The very hideousness of the place seemed a 
sin. Mud and swarming children, goats and 
refuse! The idle poor hung out of windows 
and loafed on doorsteps. These idle poor were 
mostly women whose only occupation appar- 
ently was to bring children into this wretched 
section of the earth. 

Sign-boards and railroads, two of man’s 
beauty killers, were painfully in evidence. Tot- 
tering fences made from odds and ends, prin- 
cipally barrel staves, ran in every direction ; 
saloons on every corner and — Oh, there was 
no end to the hopeless squalor of Mulberry Hill 1 

Beauty made a feeble effort to show itself 
in some scarlet tomatoes ripening on a dull 
gray roof. The vivid touch of color against all 
the neutral tints warmed Susan’s heart a little. 

“ That is — quaint ! ” she cried, pointing to 
the tomatoes. 

“ Yes,” Mr. Allen agreed indifferently. 
“ But after flies and bugs have crawled over 


The very hideousness of the place 
seemed a sin. 



25 






26 Brown-Eyed Susan 

them and stuck to the dirt on their skins — I 
wouldn’t touch them. I wouldn’t even touch 
canned tomatoes that were bought out here ! ” 
The school was large and ugly. It had been 
added to many times, and the additions showed 
a difference of opinion in color, style and pro- 
portion. The plate glass door that stood be- 
tween Mulberry Hill inhabitants and education 
was fly-specked and greasy. 

‘‘ No matter how many times a day that door 
is cleaned it always looks the same. The chil- 
dren play around the building so much, you see. 
We keep three janitors on the ‘job’ here. 
Grimy little beasts — the children I mean — but 
mighty interesting ! ” Mr. Allen hastened to 
add. 

It was the Saturday before the fall opening. 
An empty school is a dismal, dreary thing at 
best. A sickening odor of disinfectants filled 
the building, boards creaked and groaned, — 
surface dust covered everything. 

“ I hate it ! I hate it ! ” Susan kept saying 
to herself. “ It is awful, awful. I want to go 
home. How will I ever stand it.^* ” 

Mff Allen took her to her boarding-house 


Brown-Eyed Susan 27 

and said good-bj in jovial fashion. Susan knew 
that his gajety was affected. 

‘‘ Wait until you see the little rascals — and 
the teachers ! The finest set of girls in the coun- 
try. I am proud of them. Perhaps Pll send 
the young man to board here if Mrs. Weston 
has room. He would be company for you.” 
He nodded and hurried away. 

Susan went to her room and threw herself 
down upon the bed. She lay open-eyed and 
still. 

All her life she had craved pretty, becoming 
clothes and had looked forward hopefully to 
the time when she should be able to earn them 
for herself. Her teaching had seemed the Open 
Sesame to these lovely things of her dreams. 
But to have them at this price — to be sur- 
rounded by unbelievable ugliness ! There was 
little satisfaction in that! 

A young man ? A fine looking chap ? If Mr. 
Allen’s description of him was as accurate as his 
remarks about Mulberry Hill, he probably had 
feet where his hands ought to be. 

Besides,” thought Susan bitterly, “ he is a 
‘ grade teacher.’ I don’t like men who are con- 


28 Brown-Eyed Susan 

tent to be grade teachers. They were nearly 
all ‘ pills ’ at Normal, the girls had no use for 
them. I am not going to like him,” she added 
hotly, allowing her prejudice to sway her. It 
was an unreasonable prejudice but a prevalent 
one. Perhaps the girls felt that teaching was 
their very own profession, and that men were 
intruders. 

She jumped up suddenly and dashed for her 
fountain pen. A letter to her mother would 
be a good tonic for this homesick feeling — but 
not one hint of her disappointment must it con- 
tain. 

“ Mother darling,” she wrote, “ I am not to 
teach in that new school. A teacher broke her 
contract at the last minute so there was a 
vacancy out in Mulberry Hill that had to be 
filled. Mr. Allen is sending me there. 

‘‘Mulberry Hill is the Italian section of 
Woodvale and it is very interesting! I’ll have 
lots of queer and funny things to tell you, 
Mother dear ! It reminds me of what you said 
a long while ago about teaching, comparing it 
to the ministry. I shall feel like a missionary 
to a foreign land. 

“ The boarding-house is nice and comfortable 


29 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

but I miss Annie’s cooking. What are you two 
dear, dear people doing this minute Of course, 
you are reading my letter, how foolish. Mother 
mine! And Annie is standing right by, isn’t 
she? She is waiting for you to read it to her. 

“ Your Susy knows I 

“ Do you miss me — Mother? — Annie? 

“ They say a young man is coming here to 
board — a grade teacher. I am not going to 
like him. 

“ Mother, Mother, I want to kiss you — my 
mother! And kiss Annie for me. I’ll write 
again to-morrow.” 

Susan stopped, touched her lips with the end 
of her pen and looked about her room. 

‘‘I love you, Mother,” she added. “Write 
me soon, and describe my room at home, I want 
to compare it in every detail with this room 
here.” 

And so Susan refrained from one complaint 
and felt very virtuous and much like a martyr 
in consequence. Her mother would never sus- 
pect from this letter! Little did she realize 
that the very ardor of her affection would make 
it all clear to Mrs. Yorke, for Susan was not 
ordinarily demonstrative. 


30 Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ Miss Yorke!” 

‘‘Yes?” Susan called back. 

“ Dinner!” 

“ I am coming,” Susan answered as she 
stepped to her mirror. For every meal of 
every day of every month for several years to 
come, Susan and Mrs. Weston were to have this 
brief, long-distance conversation. 

“A handsome young man is coming here to 
board,” Mrs. Weston said coyly, when they 
were all seated at the table. 

“Who said that he was handsome?” The 
question was rather rude but Susan’s manner 
was polite. 

“ I saw him myself,” fluttered Mrs. Weston. 
“ Very handsome.” 

‘ No, thank you, I do not care for beans ! ” 
Susan answered Mrs. Weston’s gesture and ig- 
nored her remark. 

“ He is coming to-morrow. He is a teacher 
too, out at the Mulberry Hill School,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Weston, striving to entertain her 
“ guest.” 

“ Yes, so I had heard.” She tried to appear 
interested but she was thoroughly sick of this 
“ handsome young man.” 


31 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ You’ll like our ^ movies,’ Miss Yorke,” said 
old Mrs. Packer, Mrs. Weston’s sunny little 
mother. “ Get that young man to take you to 
the movies.” 

Susan groaned inwardly. She loathed, 
hated, despised that young man ! 

“ Mother goes to the movies all the time.” 
Mrs. Weston beamed fondly upon her gay old 
parent. 

‘‘ My daughter is my ‘ young man,’ ” Mrs. 
Packer said, — “ the best kind of a young man 
to take you to the movies these days. The way 
they hold up babies’ clothes and such is enough 
to make one blush if you happen to be with a 
real young man. Some of them pictures is 
indecent — ” 

‘‘ But that don’t bother Ma none. You 
should see her eyes fastened on them awful 
scenes. She is a real sport.” Mrs. Weston 
spoke in gentle cajolery. 

Susan smiled, but she thought of her own 
mother. 

“ Maybe we’ll have a little real movies here 
in this house after the — ” Mrs. Weston had 
her mouth shaped for “ handsome young man ” 
when Susan jumped to her feet. 


32 Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ Excuse me, won’t you please, Mrs. Weston, 
I have some unpacking still to do — ” and she 
fled up-stairs. 

Sleep was a long time coming to Susan Yorke 
that night. She distinctly had the blues ” 
and more than once tears of loneliness and dis- 
couragement were very near the surface. But 
she resolutely fought them back and in the end 
victory was hers. “ I’ll just make myself like 
it all,” she said. . . . 

“Miss Yorke!” 

“ Yes? ” Susan called back. 

“ Breakfast!” 

“ I’m' coming,” came Susan’s answer like the 
refrain of Old Black Joe, 

“ He’s come! ” breathed Mrs. Weston. 

“ Oh ! ” said Susan flatly. She felt as if it 
were a plague instead of a handsome young 
man ” that had come. 

“ Mr. Arden — Miss Yorke.” Mrs. Weston 
was confused and nervous. 

“ Mr. Arden,” Susan nodded stiffly. 

“ Miss Yorke,” Mr. Arden bowed formally. 

“ He is good looking,” thought Susan, “ but 
why on earth is he teaching a grade? ” 


33 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

‘‘ She is pretty, but what in thunder makes 
her look so queer? Her clothes, of course!” 
silently commented Mr. Arden. 

The breakfast was not a brilliant success as 
far as conversation was concerned. Mrs. Wes- 
ton and Mrs. Packer did all the talking. And 
even Mrs. Packer was not so voluble as usual — 
she was discouraged and disappointed. She 
had hoped to be part of the audience of the first 
night performance of ‘‘ Love at First Sight.” 



— had hoped to he part of 
the audience of the first 
night performance of 
“ Love at First Sight.** 


CHAPTER IV 


Mr. Arden and Susan had adjoining rooms 
in the Mulberry Hill School. Mr. Arden had a 
sixth grade, Susan a fourth. 

As misery loves company it was not strange 
that Mr. Arden should find himself walking 
home with Miss Yorke, one day shortly after 
the opening of school. It was their first at- 
tempt at conversation. 

‘‘ Three kinds of smell — garlic — onions, 
and the smell of the great unwashed. Charm- 
ing mess of kids — ” he began in a disgusted 
tone. 

“ Smells ” were something that Susan was 
very sensitive to, but she had never heard any 
one with any sense of delicacy speak of them. 

“ Before I have been in that school a week, 
I shall have broken a few limbs. If you find 
a section of Erasmo Stephanlie landing in your 
room — save it for me. You’ll know him — 
he smells like — ” 


34 


35 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Oh, Mr. Arden ! protested Susan quite 
primly, her distaste showing very plainly on her 
face. 

“ Like the very devil, was all I was going to 
say ! ” apologized Mr. Arden quickly. “ Devil ” 
was not the very choicest of words Susan felt. 

“ Did you see my Conjetta.? Some size to her 
all right! I shiver every time she goes to sit 
down, I fear to see her wedged half in and half 
out of her seat. It would fill my soul with an 
awful horror if I had to pull that creature 
around. She must weigh two hundred. What 
on earth is she doing in school — why doesn’t 
she get married? Maybe she is a spy sent by 
a welfare league of Italian mothers — she looks 
old enough. But alas, if any knowledge gets 
into her head it leaves immediately, and it is not 
to be noticed leaving. Some bouncer ! ” 

Susan was stunned into silence. 

“ It’s an entrancing thought to feel that your 
labors are to be wasted on such pieces of hu- 
manity. It is inspiring to realize that you are 
working to make noble garbage men and bar- 
bers — and mothers of thirteen more garbage 
men and thirteen more barbers — ” 

“ Mr. Arden ! ” 


36 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Mr. Arden looked at Susan steadily for a 
few seconds. The color raced over her face at 
his scrutiny. 

“ How do you like Mr. Howe.^’ ” he asked 
quietly. 

“ He is — he seems — ” 

“ He is an old maid — a dear old maid,” sug- 
gested Mr. Arden kindly. 

“ I didn’t say that — ” Susan protested 
firmly. 

“But you agree with me, don’t you.?” he 
smiled down at Susan’s rigid face. 

“ No, I do not,” Susan replied, but she caught 
his eye and they both laughed. 

“ Say, let’s be sports and go to the movies 
to-night. If I don’t do something like that 
soon, Mrs. Weston will feel that I have de- 
serted my wife and that I have a mislaid family 
somewhere. Will you go to the movies to-night, 
with me. Miss Yorke? ” 

Susan was no match for this kind of con- 
versation. She thought of Edith, Olive, how 
they would have managed it. 

“ Yes, I’ll go with you ! ” and she blushed 
furiously. She had never “ been out ” anywhere 
with a young man. 


37 


BroWfi’Eyed Susan 

So you two are going to the movies ? ” 
beamed Mrs. Packer. That’s fine ! I’ve seen 
the show myself. It’s just the kind of a pic- 
ture to go to with a young man — nothing em- 
barrassing.” 

Susan blushed at the mere suggestion of “ em- 
barrassing situations.” 

“ I hope it is not too sentimental. I like 
them a little startling,” Mr. Arden said coolly. 

“ Oh, you’ll get what you want before the 
evening’s done. There is always something — 
a — a startling,” Mrs. Packer cheered him. 

Douglas Arden’s thoughts were not the kind 
one has on the eve of a festive occasion. As he 
dressed he grumbled to himself, 

‘‘ She is a little stick. You can’t do a thing 
with her. As much fun as a funeral.” 

But he greeted her cheerfully in the front 
parlor of the boarding-house. 

‘‘Well, Miss Yorke, two school teachers we 
are, off for a lark.” 

On the way he tried to put Susan at her 
ease, and to draw her out. 

“ Mulberry Hill, aside from all ridiculous re- 
marks, is decidedly interesting. There are big 
possibilities among those people. I believe we 


38 Brown-Eyed Susan 

will both look back upon our experience there 
as well worth the labor,” he began seriously. 

Now Susan understood him and she answered 
him eagerly. 

“ I do, too, Mr. Arden. I believe that I am 
going to enjoy it, much more than if I had been 
sent to the other school. Why, even in these 
few days I have found things in those chil- 
dren — ” 

‘‘ No doubt you have found things on those 
children — mud — dirt — grease — ” he agreed 
heartily. 

Susan looked up at him in blank amazement. 

‘‘ Miss Yorke, I am ashamed of myself. I 
disgust you, I see that. But to be candid, I 
am so out of kilter with everything that I have 
experienced before, that I have well-nigh lost 
my sense of the fitness of things. I talk rot 
eight-ninths of the time. Try to steady me, 
won’t you ” His manner was so sincere, so 
penitent, that Susan almost liked him. 

Susan was never to forget what occurred that 
evening. She was to put it with the conversa- 
tion that she had overheard at Dorothy Tay- 
lor’s party. 

‘‘ Here is my ten cents — ” Susan offered 


Brown-Eyed Susan 39 

her coin to Mr. Arden as they drew near the 
“ Bijou.” 

‘‘Your — ?” Douglas Arden stared almost 
in terror at the tiny silver piece. 

“ My money for the movies,” Susan reas- 
sured him. 

“ Put it away for heaven’s sake,” Mr. Arden 
said half betwe'en his teeth, glancing about to 
see if any one had noticed her offer. “ Put it 
away — and don’t ever do that again ! ” His 
face was a dull red. 

Susan’s cheeks were flaming and stinging with 
mortification. She had an insane desire to cry 
like a hurt child. 

The evening was in ruins about them. Susan 
was grateful for only one thing — the darkness. 
She was in agony; she blamed herself for her 
stupidity, her lack of experience. Her senses 
were too upset to see the picture, she wanted to 
fly by the route of the crow, over the house- 
tops to her mother. 

Douglas Arden was not proud of himself ; he 
was as miserable as Susan. He hated hurting 
anyone’s feelings, it hurt him quite as much. 
Manlike he kept excusing his sharp answer. 
“ Not to think him capable of ten cents ! — ” 


40 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Susan got down to breakfast early and went 
to school early. She came home from school 
very late. She and Mr. Arden merely ex- 
changed “ good mornings ” and “ good after- 
noons.” When she came home in the afternoon 
she went straight to her room and wrote a long 
letter to her mother. 

“ My beloved Mother, don’t be a foolish 
mother, will you.? I don’t want to fall in love, 
I am not in love, and what’s more I never want 
to marry. I can’t help mentioning Mr. Arden, 
because there are so few people I know at pres- 
ent. But whatever did I say to give you such 
an idea? You say my last letters are full of 
him ! I don’t understand it at all. 

Besides wouldn’t I have a dreadful time if I 
married a grade teacher? It would be just di- 
viding my check with some one else! I am 
getting mercenary you see. Mother dear. You 
and gold obscure my vision. Please forget that 
young man, won’t you, dear heart? Besides I 
don’t think that he likes me ; he is not my type 
at all. Hazel would like him and he would like 
her. But not me ! He would never like me. 

“ I wonder why he is teaching ; he is not 


41 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

suited to it at all. He gets in awful tempers 
with his poor children. He positively yells at 
them. It sounds like a riot in the next room 
half the time. Mr. Howe won’t like it I am 
sure. I hope that he doesn’t find out for Mr. 
Arden’s sake. 

“ I have the queerest names in my class ; my 
roll-call is a task. Mr. Arden says the names 
sound more as though they belonged to break- 
fast foods and patent medicines than to chil- 
dren. Of course I have three ^ Rosies,’ four 
‘ Tonies,’ three ‘ Angelos,’ three ‘ Nickies ’ — 
and ‘ Marys ’ ! Oh dear, it is confusing ! I 
have forty-six children in all. 

“ Mr. Arden has only forty but he makes an 
awful fuss over that number. Why, I wouldn’t 
mind a few more. 

One of my little boys came to school to- 
day with a black eye and a cut forehead — his 
father hit him with a stove-lifter. I know that 
you are shuddering, dear, gentle Mother, but 
aren’t you glad that I can bring some good in- 
fluence to these future citizens? I feel that the 
school may be made the biggest factor for good 
in their lives. 

“ I cannot help but believe that my task is 


42 Brown-Eyed Susan 

a sacred one, the shaping of forty-six destinies. 
Of course I cannot do it all, but I can help. 
Every hour of the day I try to leave some deep 
and lasting impression upon them. But oh, the 
odds against me. Mother! I couldn’t begin to 
tell you, for I am just beginning to feel them 
myself. 

“ My deepest love to you, Mother of Mine — 
and try to think of me as happy and contented. 
I can’t see why you think me lonely and home- 
sick, dear? 

‘‘ Don’t forget to forget Mr. Arden. 

“ No, no, do not send me any clothes — 
don’t try to make things so far away from a 
‘ fitting.’ It would be too much to undertake. 
Mother ! I am going to buy some just as soon 
as I get my check. 

“ Mother, I love you, 

“ Susy.” 


CHAPTER V 


For nearly a week Douglas Arden and Susan 
had little or no conversation. It was very sim- 
ple — they permitted Mrs. Weston and Mrs. 
Packer to do all the talking. Neither of these 
two noticed that the conversation was their 
very own; they felt that it was quite general, 
their discussion of the movies, the weather and 
church affairs. 

Susan was doing a great deal of private 
worrying on the subject of Mr. Arden and his 
class. Each day the disturbances in the next 
room sounded more lively. Susan caught Mr. 
Howe standing still in the hallway, his head 
cocked in the direction of Mr. Arden’s door and 
an expression on his face which showed that 
he anticipated trouble. Susan shivered ; she 
wanted to warn Mr. Arden that disaster was 
impending. 

A week later they walked to school together, 
the first time since the ‘‘ movie ” episode. 

43 


44 Brown-Eyed Susan 

Every vestige of Mr. Arden’s gay manner had 
flown, he was depressed and tired. 

‘‘Forty healthy young Wops have taken it 
out of me — ” he explained. 

“ Your class is rather troublesome, isn’t it.? ” 
ventured Susan shyly. 

“ Rather.? My goodness, I should like to en- 
counter something really troublesome, if that is 
your idea of ‘ rather.’ ” 

“ What is the matter, do you suppose.? ” 

“ I was never intended for a teacher in the 
first place; I simply can’t make them see any- 
thing, even though Mr. Allen said that they 
were ‘ bright ’ and ‘ quick.’ In the second 
place, I have a lot of overgrown kids that the 
law is forcing to stay in school, and who hate 
school and who want to go to work. I sympa- 
thize with them. I wish they were working. 
What earthly good are they doing wasting their 
time here — and my perfectly good vitality.? 
They are aiming for expulsion. I don’t want to 
expel them ; it might mean a reformatory.” 

“ I think — ” Susan hesitated. 

“ What .? ” he questioned quickly. 

“ Can’t you keep them any quieter ? ” That 
was not what Susan had intended saying. 


45 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Ye gods ! ” he burst out. ‘‘ Not unless I 
smash a coal shovel over every head ! ” 

“ At Normal we were told that the quieter 
you are with the children, the quieter they are,” 
Susan explained. 

“ Tony Travissiano, do not punch Rocco 
again — wait until recess,” he said in soft sil- 
very tones as he shook his head in mock re- 
proof. 

“ Every time I speak pleasantly to Rosie Del 
Russo they snicker and laugh and exchange wise 
looks with one another. Of course I get mad 
and howl at them. Anybody but an old woman 
would,” he continued gloomily. 

‘‘ I don’t see why you teach,” Susan said 
tactlessly. 

“ Neither do I ! It won’t be for long.” 
They were nearing the school. ‘‘Just look at 
them!” 

Susan looked, smiling brightly upon the 
ragged multitude, smiling brightly into dark 
faces that lit up with a shy smile in return. 
Some of those who knew her best followed close 
at her heels. 

“ Good morning, Misz Yor ! ” they called. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Arden I ” 


46 Brown-Eyed Susan 

Every child in the group, every child in the 
street, spoke separately, and every child eagerly 
awaited a separate answer. 

By the time they had reached the school a 
score of children was swarming in their wake. 
Some of them put out their grimy little hands 
to touch Miss Yorke’s dress in mute devotion, 
their eyes soft and admiring. 

Ah, you were with him again,” teased one of 
the teachers as Susan entered the dingy 
teachers’ room. 

Susan laughed, and was pleasantly surprised 
to feel that she did not blush. 

I am in love myself ! ” Miss Stuart sighed 
sentimentally. 

With whom ? ” they chorused. 

“ Geraldo Giodanno,” she answered solemnly. 
Her answer brought forth a shout of laughter. 

‘‘You laugh?” she asked, as if in pained 
surprise. “ Is it not the first symptom of love 
when a woman asks a man to give up cigarette 
smoking for her sake? Geraldo is never, never 
going to smoke again, at least not until he gets 
into the fifth grade.” 

“ Smoke in the fourth grade? ” Susan asked 
in amazement. 


47 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ Smoke and drink from the second. Every 
time their mother buys a baby they get half 
drunk,” Mrs. Moore answered in a matter of 
fact tone. 

“ Read these words for me ! ” Susan ordered 
wearily, as she touched the board with the 
pointer. 

The class chanted together in a singsong 
manner. Susan felt that it was only by rote, 
so she erased one word. 

‘‘ Now read them ! ” 

They chanted them as they had before, miss- 
ing word and all. A few quick children left it 
out. There was general confusion. 

‘‘ Millie, go to the board, and show me ‘ Vik- 
ing ’ ! ” Susan handed the pointer to eager, 
self-sure Millie. 

Millie proudly pointed to the word ‘ Norse.’ 

Is she right ” Susan appealed to the class. 

‘‘Yes, ma’am! Yes, ma’am!” they shouted, 
and as they watched Susan’s face, “ Yes, ma’am. 
No, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. No ! ” 

“That will do!” 

Susan sat down at her desk and looked coldly 
upon the class. Only her expression was cold ; 


48 Brown^Eyed Susan 

inwardly she was hot from baffled temper. As 
she sat contemplating her next move, the swing- 
ing door at the back burst open and a large 
Italian boy fell headlong into the room. Mr. 
Arden was after him. 

Mario ! ” he cried, “ Come here ! ” 

Susan jumped to her feet and with a gesture 
of her hand quieted her excited children. 

“ Ah — you maka — me — sick ! ” the boy 
snarled back. 

In two strides Mr. Arden had him by the col- 
lar. Mario whirled on him, blind with fury and 
struck at him. Mr. Arden caught his two 
wrists together and held them in a vise. 

I’ll get-a me brother after you,” the boy 
shrieked in rage. “ I’ll get-a me knife — ” 

Mr. Arden’s face was very white as he fought 
with the struggling boy. The door between the 
two classrooms was open, and the sixth grade, 
eager to see the fight, was in an uproar. 

Susan hurried to the open doorway, her face 
as white as Mr. Arden’s own, her eyes blazing. 

It was only subconsciously that Mr. Arden 
realized what that ‘‘ stick of a girl ” was doing 
to his class. Two classrooms of children, — 
eighty-six in all — were deathly quiet, and one 


Brown-Eyed Susan 49 

small girl held them both by the strength of her 
will. 

A nervous giggle broke the silence of the sixth 



— and she was playing 
to the gallery. 


grade; it had a faint echo somewhere in the 
room. 

Thirty-nine pairs of eyes were glued as 
though fascinated upon Susan’s face. The 
giggle died away. 


50 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ You have disturbed me, and my fourth 
grade many times and — it — is — going — to 
— stop. Do you understand — what — that 
‘ — means — ? You — are — not — going — to 
disturb — me — again.” She spoke slowly, let- 
ting each word have its proper dramatic effect. 

“ Yes, ma’am,” they chorused in a dazed 
fashion, still staring at her face. 

Mr. Arden pushed the sullen Mario ahead of 
him, towards his room. The minute the class 
saw him, the minute they saw the still furious 
Mario, the excitement of it came over them 
again. They removed their eyes from Miss 
Yorke. 

“ Conjetta, leave the room!” Mr. Arden 
ordered. Susan had not seen what Conjetta 
had done. 

Conjetta settled her mature bulk comfortably 
into her seat and did not move. 

“ Leave the room 1 ” 

Conjetta smiled at Nickie Russo, but did not 
stir. 

“ Go to Mr. Howe at once 1 ” 

With Mario still by the collar Mr. Arden 
stood over the passive Conjetta in a threatening 
attitude. 


51 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Snickers of derision and contempt went over 
the class. Mr. Arden could never move Con- 
jetta. Conjetta felt this too — and she was 
playing to the gallery. 

‘‘ At once ! ” Mr. Arden demanded again. 

Conjetta smiled broadly; Susan was trem- 
bling with rage. 

“All right, stay there! Stay there!” Mr. 
Arden cried furiously. He knew that he could 
not move Conjetta, and he dared not appeal to 
Mr. Howe. “ Stay there, but you cannot do 
any work — ” 

“ I am not a — afraid to stay here. I don’t 
want-a do any work ! ” 

Douglas Arden had lost completely the con- 
trol of his class. Susan felt that nothing she 
could do now would help him. She went back 
to her own room and closed the door between, 
her heart heavy within her. 

Just as Susan dreaded, Mr. Arden’s disci- 
pline went all to pieces. Even the other 
teachers gossiped about it at lunch time. 
Susan felt that serious trouble was at hand. 
Something would have to happen soon. 

The day Susan was to get that magic check 


52 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

— the day of days — Mr. Allen came to Mul- 
berry Hill. Susan saw him coming from her 
window and a sickening fear clutched at her 
heart. It was all over. A new month was to 
begin ; Mr. Allen’s visit was significant. 

Susan feared rightly. The voices of Mr. Al- 
len, Mr. Howe and Mr. Arden came to her many 
times through the crack in the door. The day 
dragged. Susan did not want to face Mr. Ar- 
den, so she planned to stay late and work on her 
register. 

As she opened the door of the boarding-house, 
Mrs. Weston met her with a tragic air. 

Mr. Arden’s going ! ” 

He is ? ” Susan’s tone betrayed little sur- 
prise. 

‘‘ Yes,” she wailed, to-morrow.” 

Susan climbed the stairs wearily in spite of 
the effect that a first check should have had ; in 
spite of the fact that the check was to be spent 
the next day for readymade clothes, and that 
Miss Anderson, a young and attractive teacher, 
had promised to supervise the purchases. 

“ Let me talk to you a minute, won’t you. 
Miss Yorke, I have some news for you — ” Mr. 
Arden met her at the top of the flight. 


53 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Silently they both went down to the little 
front parlor. 

“ I am bounced,” he announced glibly. 

Susan said nothing, her expression showed 
her sympathy. 

“ Not the most ignominious ‘ bouncing,’ be- 
cause I agreed with them. I leave, or rather 
I left, to-day. Another month is due me if I 
had cared to stay. The fact that I had some 
choice in the matter rather softens the situa- 
tion,” he added as an afterthought. I sup- 
pose you were never ‘ fired ’ ? ” 

« Why, no.” 

‘‘ Then you have not lived, young lady. Life, 
according to some people, is merely a succes- 
sion of rotten deals, hard knocks and trouhle. 
You are stagnating, existing without them ! 
Court being ‘ bounced ’ as the first hard blow ! ” 

“ No, thank you ! ” Susan shook her head. 

No.^ ” he smiled. “ Well, I deserved it — I 
am not really sore at any one, but allow me to 
describe how the cruel deed is done. 

“ Enter — Mr. Allen — Mr. Howe — they 
hold a star chamber council at the left corner 
of the room. They apparently are engrossed 
in a solemn discussion. The class and I are 


54 


Brown-Eyed Susan 


curious but quiet ; we await developments. The 
council removes itself to the back of the room, 
and continues more aggressively. Class and I 
begin to catch odd words. They adjourn the 
session and retire by the way of the cloak room. 
The dear children are in a nervous flutter, but 
keep fairly quiet, as the cloak room door is sug- 
gestively ajar. 

“ Front door opens, Mr. Allen and Mr. Howe 
enter once more, still deep in conversation. 
Mr. Howe tells Salvatore to sit up, and then 
turns to Mr. Allen, shaking his head and frown- 
ing darkly. Awful crime Salvatore committed ! 
It brings vigorous action on Mr. Allen’s part; 
he addresses the class — ignores me ! 

Then Mr. Allen makes a few sparkling re- 
marks that bring a joyous shout from the class, 
eager for a chance to let off some superfluous 
energy. Mr. Allen and Mr. Howe exit once 
more. They circle the room rapidly and enter 
by the back door and find the class still laugh- 
ing. Just what they want ! 

‘‘ Fireworks ! They deliberately made those 
children laugh and then expected me to bottle 
them up immediately. I am not good at that, 
as you know ! 



— met her with a 
tragic air. 


55 







56 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Mr. Allen requires mj presence at the meet- 
ing in the back of the room. 

“ I am asked if I know the phraseology of a 
‘ contract.’ 

“ I answer affirmatively and agreeably that I 
believe it requires me to give thirty days’ notice, 
should I care to leave ! 

“ La — la ! The music begins ! But we part 
very cordially, both sides well satisfied — ” 

Susan was smiling broadly at his recital, 
which had been punctuated by lavish and ex- 
pressive gestures. 

‘‘ I have made a mess of teaching. I never 
thought of it until this summer, for a very spe- 
cial purpose. And I never want to think of it 
again. I don’t belong, never did belong. If I 
had ever been one of those ‘ wops,’ I would have 
acted just the same — gone as far as I could. 
It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t have it in me! 
Teaching is a profession, not a ‘ trick ’ to be 
used for a purpose or a short time. I have 
more respect for the profession but I leave it 
without a sigh — ” 

Susan smiled kindly. “You are very right, 
Mr. Arden. You are not a teacher. What- 
ever your ‘ bent ’ is, find it — perhaps you know 


57 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

what it is now — and do your part. We each 
have our place for service and success if we can 
only find it. I am glad for your sake that you 
have given up teaching.” 

Susan’s last meal with Mr. Arden at Mrs. 
Weston’s table was as great a success as the 
first had been a failure. 


CHAPTER VI 


Susan walked slowly to school the next morn- 
ing. Mulberry Hill looked just as wretched as 
it had that first day. The wind was from the 
“ right direction.” The air was heavy and al- 
most nauseating. The shanties, the miserable 
tenements, and the noisy, dirty children seemed 
more repulsive, more discouraging, than they 
ever had before. Susan had no heart for any- 
thing, even those clothes that she was to buy 
that very afternoon. 

Where is Mr. Arden ? ” Miss Stuart asked 

her. 

‘‘ He is gone ; he is never going to teach 
again,” Susan answered. 

“ I imagined that would happen, didn’t you ? 
Mr. Allen was over here all day yesterday.” 

“ Yes, I know,” Susan replied, as though dis- 
missing the subject. 

‘‘You will miss him.?” the other queried, 
rather too openly prying into Susan’s affairs. 

58 


59 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Of course — some ! ” Susan’s tone was al- 
most sharp. She did not care to discuss 
Douglas Arden with any of them. 

There was general confusion and excitement 
in the teacher’s room as the two entered. 

“What’s up.?*” Miss Stuart inquired, wel- 
coming news or excitement of any kind. 

“ Nellie Arnold’s Tony Caruso burned up his 
baby. It was in the paper. We are reading 
the harrowing details.” 

Susan removed her hat and coat, a feeling of 
horrible disgust almost making her faint. 

“Why.?*” burst out Miss Stuart. 

“ It doesn’t say ‘ why ’ but merely how — ” 
Miss Arnold said coolly. “ It was an accident. 
The baby happened to be in his bed and they 
built the fire too near — ” 

Susan wondered how they could talk so flip- 
pantly on such a subject. She glanced at Miss 
Arnold’s face. It was white and her lips were 
trembling. The teachers could ill afford to let 
their nerves be too much affected by the daily 
tragedies about them ; they used their own 
method to guard against just such situations 
as this. 

“ Say ! ” burst out Dolly Anderson, “ there 


60 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

is a new teacher up in Mr. Arden’s room, and, 
to judge by her looks, she’ll put terror into the 
souls of those little varmints. But they need 
some one strict after the wild ^ goings-on ’ in 
there for the last few weeks. Many times I have 
expected that the ceiling would fall through 
and Mr. Arden and his forty pupils join me 
and my forty-four. I had planned to resign 
immediately if such a thing happened. 

“ I don’t care,” continued Dolly, chattering 
above every one. “ I don’t care about per cents 
and attendance. I can’t see why my angels 
don’t get measles. It isn’t fair ! Over in Num- 
ber 8 school they get everything — measles — 
mumps — ! Now Jessie Hilliard has about half 
her class out — 

‘‘ Come along, you chatterbox,” and Miss 
Arnold dragged away the lively little Dolly. 

“ Don’t forget. Miss Yorke, I am going shop- 
ping with you,” Dolly called back. 

Susan smiled gratefully after her irrepress- 
ible friend. She walked to her room, trying 
hard to keep her mind off the room next door 
and its new occupant. 

Many times through the day came the sound 
of a sharp, harsh voice. Susan rejoiced at the 


61 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

stillness that it inspired. Those children had 
been responsible she felt for removing an in- 
teresting chum from her uneventful existence. 
She was glad that some one was making them 
toe the mark. 

At recess time she dreamed of her new 
clothes. A feeling of disappointment came over 
her that “ he ” was not to see her transfigura- 
tion. She had made up her mind that she 
should have a tailored suit and a tailored hat. 
She had never worn anything “ plain ” in her 
life and she longed for simple well constructed 
clothes. Ruffles and shirrings had hidden a 
multitude of mistakes in the past. She had de- 
cided to shun them for all time. 

Her mother had insisted upon paying her first 
month’s expenses so that her first check might 
be free and clear of all mortgage. Sixty dol- 
lars, it would be, with only the pension fund 
to come out; and such a large sum seemed 
wealth, indeed, to Susan. Her first week’s 
board of the second month had been paid. 
Twenty-one dollars must be saved for the next 
three weeks. She didn’t care how much she 
scrimped, she was going to pay twenty-five dol- 
lars for a suit and five for a hat ! The shoes — 


62 Brown-Eyed Susan 

she had a fairly good pair — would be bought 
next month. Her footwear and gloves had 
never been bad ; her mother couldn’t make them. 

So Dolly and Susan went to the largest and 
most reliable store within many miles. Dolly’s 
tastes were up-to-date, but inclined to be a lit- 
tle “ loud ” ; Susan w^as very conservative ; it 
was the clerk who helped to strike a happy 
medium. 

“ But I don’t want to pay thirty dollars — 
Susan protested. 

“ Open an account and charge it,” suggested 
Dolly. “ It looks wonderful on you ! ” 

“ Doesn’t it ! ” said the clerk heartily. 

“ But I won’t take it — ,” Susan said in a 
low steady voice. 

“ She won’t take it, — except — * off,’ ” Dolly 
smiled in sympathy at the clerk. “ Get out 
every twenty-five dollar suit in the store and let 
her get at them ! ” 

“ I won’t wear that purple, it would be hor- 
rible with reddish hair — ” 

“ It’s all the rage. Leslie Carter, Billy 
Burke,” Dolly chirped. “ Why it is wonderful, 
my dear ! ” 

“ I won’t wear it ! ” Susan said firmly. 


63 


Bi'own-Eyed Susan 

‘‘ Very, very well 1 ” Dolly gave in good na- 
turedly, ‘‘ Here is a cheerful black — ” 



— showed no sympathy. 


“ My mother never lets me wear black, she 
would have a fit.” 

“Here is a dark green in the same style.” 
The clerk held up a duplicate of the “ cheerful 
black.” 


64 Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ Mrs. Moore has one just like that,” con- 
demned Dolly. 

And on and on they went for an hour and a 
half. Dolly was beginning to lose interest. 
Susan looked weary eyed and disgusted. 

“ Just what I want,” cried Susan suddenly. 
« Exactly!” 

“ It’s very nice — but plain,” Dolly agreed 
half heartedly. ‘‘ And very good looking, my 
dear ! ” she hastened to add as an afterthought. 

The clerk remarked coldly, “ It is very good 
looking — it is very smart. A model suit! It 
is the first one that you had on ! ” 

‘‘Not — not the thirty dollar one ! ” Susan 
gasped. 

“ Yes, Miss ! ” The clerk showed no sym- 
pathy. 

“ Now, Sus-an! ” Dolly cried in righteous in- 
dignation, “ you simply have to take it.” 

And Susan took it. It was a plain suit of 
dark blue. It fitted her well, and changed her 
almost as the fairy wand changed Cinderella. 
It was just the right length and just the right 
cut. It was absolutely the mode, but not ex- 
treme. 


65 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Susan was wild with joy and the two girls 
babbled like magpies over their fudge nut sun- 
daes. 

The hat to-morrow.” Susan’s eyes danced. 

You’ll never in the living world get a hat, 
Susan, to fit your hair the way you wear it. 
All girls wear their hair two ways, one for a 
hat and one for evening. Wear it low on your 
neck — ” 

“ You do it for me, Dolly,” Susan suggested 
eagerly. 

“ After supper to-night. I’ll come over,” 
Dolly promised gayly, well pleased to be of serv- 
ice to some one. Dolly felt that she was going 
to be proud of her protege. 

Susan came to earth with a dull thud, when 
she sat down at Mrs. Weston’s table that night. 

“It’s awful without Mr. Arden, ain’t it.?^ ” 
Mrs. Parker said, solicitously. “ I think that 
he was just getting soft on you.” 

Susan didn’t care much what they said; she 
felt that it was almost “ awful ” to be alone 
once more with grown-up people. She had a 
miserable sensation of having lost something, 
something that she had wanted very much. 


66 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Dolly helped to make her forget her loneli- 
ness. She rattled along about her ‘‘ cases,” her 
“ fights ” and her “ triumphs.” 

“ Your hair looks beautiful.” Dolly sur- 
veyed her handiwork with enthusiasm. 

Susan looked at her reflection in the mirror. 

“ Dolly, I look like an actress,” she protested. 

“ What harm is there if you do ? What is 
the matter with that, you foolish girl.^ They 
fix their hair in the best and most becoming 
ways. Most of them have skilled maids to do 
it for them. Besides, Susan, there is a world 
of difference between a ‘ cheap ’ actress and a 
real one! My precious sister is on the stage 
and when you meet her you will never feel like 
that again.” Dolly was in earnest, her face 
shining with the intensity of her thought. 

‘‘ I would like to meet her,” Susan said gently. 

‘‘ Your hair is fixed simply,” Dolly continued. 

But it is becoming, attractive, you owe it to 
yourself.” 

“You are right,” Susan conceded as she 
looked at her reflection once more. “ It is con- 
spicuous just this minute because it is fixed as 
I have never had it — becomingly.” 

“ Susan,” said Dolly warmly, “ you are very 


67 


Brown^Eyed Susan 

good looking, almost beautiful, but Susan, you 
are too prim ! Be careful or you will be an old 
maid school teacher.” Dolly wagged her head 
in a dismal fashion. 

“ Oh, I’ll be an old maid, I am afraid — ” 

“ Old maid ! ” Dolly was disgusted. ‘‘ ‘ Old 
maid ’ is a disposition, not a state. I’ve seen 
married women and men and little girls who 
were ‘ old maids.’ Mr. Howe is an old maid, so 
is his son — ” 

Susan laughed as she recalled what Douglas 
Arden had said. 

Susan did not write to her mother that night, 
but lay awake in the dark for hours — dream- 
ing, and dreaming — ! 


CHAPTER VII 


The night that Susan lay a-dreaming with 
wide open eyes belongs to the “ long ago.” 
Four years have passed since she came to Mul- 
berry Hill. 

Early in the spring of the first year Mr. Al- 
len had said to her — 

“Would you like to be transferred over to 
the Tyler Street School, Miss Yorke? ” His 
manner plainly showed that he was conferring 
an honor upon her. 

She understood Mr. Allen better now than 
she had at first. 

“ I think not,” Susan replied. “ Don’t you 
remember what you said last Fall.^ That the 
teachers over here always wanted to stay.?” 
She raised her eyebrows in evident amusement. 

“ Well ! ” He shrugged his shoulders in irri- 
tation. “ But you seemed more suited to that 
school last fall than you do now. You have 
changed a great deal. The Tyler Street School 
is a model organization — ” 

68 


69 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

‘‘ But these children are so interesting — and 
so bright ! ” she persisted. “ And it is all so — 
quaint ! ” 

Then he had given her up, quite puzzled and 
annoyed. 

Of course Susan had changed in the four 
years. The change was not remarkable — it 
was perfectly natural under the circumstances. 
It was a sweet Susan, this girl of nearly twenty- 
five, not the narrow, ignorant young woman 
who had first come to Mulberry Hill. 

Mulberry Hill had taught her many things. 
The exterior ugliness of the place was not all 
that she knew now. She had learned life’s most 
pitiful and sordid facts and learned them in 
their raw, unvarnished state. And because she 
met them face to face and not indirectly through 
books or newspapers, they had not hurt her, 
but had strengthened her. Cigarette smoking 
and even wine drinking in the lowest grades 
were not the worst of the evils that confronted 
the teachers of Mulberry Hill. 

Susan had at first refused to recognize the 
unfortunate social conditions which existed in 
this swarming district. She felt that the knowl- 
edge would hurt, contaminate her — she had 


70 Brown-Eyed Susan 

put it aside at first, in rather a prudish fashion. 
‘‘ A missionary to a foreign land ! ” Many 
times that expression came to her — and she 
finally accepted her obligation. 

“ Of course these things shock me,” Susan 
said with a quivering lip to Mrs. Moore, the 
oldest teacher at Mulberry. “ I never knew 
such things could be. And, Mrs. Moore, it 
would make my mother feel dreadfully if she 
knew I was learning such things. They can- 
not hurt me — just knowing! If they were to 
hurt me just knowing of them, what chance of 
improvement have those children who have lived 
through them ? ” 

‘‘You poor child!” the older woman had 
said. “ You are such a child ! ” 

That was the first time that any one had 
called Susan a child in that tone. She was 
childlike but infinitely womanly as well. That 
was what her teaching experience had done for 
her. 

The week after Dolly had come to Mrs. Wes- 
ton’s to fix Susan’s hair, she moved over her- 
self — and had stayed on through the four 
years. But Dolly was leaving now for good 


71 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

and Mrs. Weston’s house was m such a state of 
riotous confusion that it would have been as 
much as your life was worth to walk about with- 
out stepping on something. 

“ What a day ! ” caroled Dolly, and she slid 
down the banister because the stairs were piled 
high. 

“ Don’t sing,” cautioned Mrs. Packer. 
‘‘ You ain’t had any breakfast yet! ” 

‘‘ Good heavens I That is right,” Dolly cried 
in delight. ‘‘ I am clean daffy, but I can’t eat 
— I am to be married, tra-la ! ” and she whistled 
“ Here Comes the Bride.” 

“ No more teaching, no more books, no more 
pupils’ sullen looks, no more bats, and no 
more — ” 

“ Dolly! ” Susan called from upstairs. “ Be 
still ! I am writing announcements ! ” 

“ You stopped me in time. I couldn’t think 
of anything witty to rhyme with bats.” Dolly 
sat down suddenly and subsided into silence. 

“Why, Dolly, what are you crying for?” 
Susan asked in dismay as she came down into 
the room a minute later. “ I didn’t mean to 
hurt your feelings, dear. Sing all you like.” 
Susan put her arms about the little figure. 


72 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ I’ll try and think of a lovely rhyme for bats 
if you will give me time,” she coaxed. 

“ Susan ! ” Dolly sniffled. “ Oh, Susan,” and 
she clutched her friend tight, nearly choking 
her. 

‘‘ Dolly, what is it ? ” Susan’s voice w^as very 
tender. 

‘‘ It’s getting married ! ” and the tears came 
again. 

Susan looked at her in amazement. 

‘‘ Why — I thought you loved Billy,” she 
burst out. 

‘‘ I do ! I do ! ” Dolly protested. “ I wor- 
ship him ! ” 

‘‘Well.?” said Susan blankly. 

“ You never got married, Susy dear, or you 
would cry, too ! ” Dolly assured her. 

“ Your nose is awfully red, Dolly,” was all 
that Susan could think of to say. 

“When is your mother coming?” Dolly 
asked, making a stout effort to regain her com- 
posure. 

“ Very soon, on the 10:15,” Susan answered, 
still at loss to understand Dolly’s tears. 

“ I am glad there is going to be a mother at 


73 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

my wedding even if it is only some one else’s,” 
and Dolly began to cry again. 

“ Dolly ! ” begged Susan in alarm. ‘‘ Dolly, 
you are nervous — ” 

“ That’s it, you goose, I am nervous, nervous 
as a witch! Why didn’t you think of that be- 
fore I am frightened — I am happy — miser- 
able — I am wild with joy — I never knew any- 
thing so solemn in all my days ! ” 

‘‘ Don’t cry again I ” pleaded Susan ; “ please, 
please, Dolly.” 

“ You and Eleanor are going to look beauti- 
ful together,” Dolly put in irrelevantly. “ You 
are both the same height, and she’s so dark and 
you’re so fair — ” 

Dolly Anderson, you have said that six 
time an hour, ever since Eleanor promised to 
come to the wedding.” 

‘‘ Perhaps I have — ” Dolly spoke so sadly 
that Susan was in terror lest she weep anew. 

‘‘ Eleanor thinks you are charming,” Dolly 
smiled at Susan sweetly. 

“Your sister is wonderful, Dolly; I am very 
proud of knowing one so distinguished. And 
to think that ‘ plain Susan ’ is to walk with 


74 


Brown-Eyed Susan 


Miss Eleanor Anderson, the star of ‘ My Lady 
of Poverty Row.’ I just tremble with ecstasy 
every time I think of it ! ” 

“ Every one loves Eleanor,” Dolly nodded her 
little head. “ You can’t resist her.” 

‘‘ You don’t want to,” Susan cried. ‘‘ And 
even my mother worships her. I have taken 
Mother to see ‘ My Lady of Poverty Row ’ three 
times. Everybody in Manleyville knows that 
we know Eleanor Anderson.” 

“ And if it hadn’t been for you, I’d never have 
met Billy.” 

‘‘You have said that before, too!” Susan 
teased ; “ and who was talking about Billy ? ” 

“Susan Yorke!” Dolly scolded. “I am 
ashamed of you — you have never forgiven him 
because he refused to kiss you at that party. 
J ust a mean — ” 

“ Mother! ” Susan interrupted with a joyous 
cry and away she flew, but Dolly reached Mrs. 
Yorke first. 

She flung her arms about that kindly soul 
with such violence that she knocked her hat over 
one ear. Mrs. Yorke held Dolly tightly in her 
arms, saying nothing, just pressing her close. 

Dolly was crying again. 


Brown-Eyed Susan 75 

Susan looked at her mother over Dolly’s head, 
her anxiety and fear reflected on her face. 

Mrs. Yorke smiled oddly and just shook her 
head in answer. There, there, you dear little 
girl, I understand — ” and apparently she did 
understand. Susan went back to writing and 
gave weddings up as peculiar to say the least. 

“ A wedding present delivered by the Triano 
fruit wagon and Raphael is with it ! ” cried 
Mrs. Weston. 

Dolly made Raphael the proudest boy in the 
world, hugging him before she opened her 
“ present,” and the happiest boy in the world 
by kissing him heartily, after she had seen the 
imported ‘‘ goodies ” and the pieces of lace. 

He squirmed about in shy confusion, shrugged 
his shoulders and tried to hide his face. Susan 
loved that characteristic in her Italians, that 
longing for appreciation coupled with a charm- 
ing modesty. 

Dolly was caroling blithely again, singing 
at the top of her voice, the real beauty of it 
being the joy it expressed, not the quality of 
the tones. 

The wedding was in the new stone church, 
and Susan, accustomed all her life to many cere- 



77 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

monies, thought that perhaps the simple service 
might be cold. But it was a pretty wedding; 
weddings are always pretty and brides are al- 
ways lovely. 

About fifty guests gathered, or, rather, clut- 
tered together, for the reception at Mrs. Wes- 
ton’s house. Every bit of superfluous furniture 
had been removed, but still there was not enough 
room. 

Susan sat eating an ice cream wedding 
bell ” and chatting with “ Nordy ” Maine. 

‘‘ I thought teachers never got married,” he 
said blandly. “ This is a rare occasion.” He 
did not know that the partner of the dazzling 
Miss Eleanor Anderson was a “ teacher.” He 
had a gentle pitying contempt for the whole pro- 
fession. He was an actor. 

‘‘ And I,” said Susan graciously, “ have al- 
ways felt that actors and actresses never stayed 
married.” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “ Perhaps they 
don’t; I don’t blame them.” 

‘‘ And perhaps I don’t blame teachers for 
never marrying,” she smiled coolly at him. 
‘‘ For I don’t see any sense marrying unless you 
are going to stay married.” 


78 Brown-Eyed Susan 

Over in her corner Mrs. Yorke was beaming 
at her young daughter, beside a real “ New 
York ” man. She was very happy and con- 
tented. 

The guests had gone, the bride was on her 
wa}^ upon life’s big adventure. The house was 
empty — quiet. The camp chairs, the palms, 
the flowers, paper rose petals, confetti, and for- 
gotten favors were all that was left of the wed- 
ding joy to those behind. 

‘‘Susan!” said Mrs. Yorke when they were 
alone. “ What a pleasure it is to see any one 
as radiant as Dolly. I wonder — ” and she 
looked wistfull}^ at her daughter. 

Susan sat in all her lovely clothes, her arms 
filled with the bride roses tliat she had caught. 
Her eyes were lowered and her lips parted. She 
did not seem to hear her mother. 

“ Susan, that was a handsome young man 
that you were talking to. Do you suppose — 
will you ever see him again ? ” 

Susan’s thoughts were far away. She buried 
her face in the roses. 

“ You caught the bride’s bouquet, dear, and 


Brown-Eyed Susan 79 

that was a fine young man, one of Eleanor An- 
derson’s friends.” 

“You darling goose! You matchmaker! 
If you only knew what he was saying to me ! ” 
and Susan arranged the roses and lilies of the 
valley in a big jar. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Dolly had been married the second week of 
June. She had not finished out her year ; Billy 
wouldn’t wait. She had brought her class to 
the “ examination ” point and left some one 
else to finish for her, her conscience not a whit 
troubled by the task which she had set for her 
successor. 

Thursday afternoon, the day after Dolly’s 
wedding, Susan walked home from school with 
Jerry Cardinalli at her side. A feeling of lone- 
liness, amounting almost to discontent, had pos- 
sessed her all day. She was restless, a vague 
longing filled her soul, like Maud Muller’s on 
that summer day. School was different without 
Dolly. The perfume of the roses and the lilies 
at her waist — a souvenir of the day before — 
seemed to steal into her senses and cast a spell 
over her. 

“ I am a Boy Scout ! ” Jerry said proudly. 

I carry your books ; that is a kind act.” 

80 


81 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

It is wonderful to be a Boy Scout, Jerry. 
It has done you a great deal of good. You’re 
so nice and clean and handsome.” 

Jerry ducked at the compliment, but Susan 
caught the end of his delighted grin. 

‘‘I do — a — brave deed sometime,” he said 
eagerly, looking for more praise, but as he spoke 
a shadow crept over his face. “ I could-a do 
a brave deed but I wasna up — in — time ! ” 

“What was it, Jerry Susan found it 
hard to listen to the boy. 

“ Michael Capanear, his grandma, you 
heard ” 

“ No.” 

“ Last night she have a fight with a daugh- 
ter’s man. He say evil things to her. She get 
mad. She says, ‘ I go — away, I never come 
back, you’ll be sorry for saying evil things to 
me.’ 

“ She goes and she jumps by the train, and 
some of her was here — ” he pointed dramati- 
cally — “ and some of her was there — all 
over! ” He shrugged expressively as he jerked 
out his story. 

Susan shook her head. “ Oh, J erry — 1 ” 

“ I have the courage to look at her but I 


82 Brown-Eyed Susan 

wasna — up — in — time,” he rushed the last 
words together. “ I wanta — tell the scout 
master, I have the courage to see her, but I 
wasna — up — in — time. It was a brave 
deed.” 

Jerry!” cried Susan. “That isn’t brav- 
ery so much as it is curiosity.” 

“ Oh, ma’am I ” he shook his head sadly. “ I 
have the courage but I w^asna up — in — time 1 ” 

“Jerry, if you had to see her; if — ” Susan 
hesitated in distaste — “ if it were necessary for 
you to pick up — Oh, Jerry 1 ” 

“ Yes, ma’am, I have the bravery to see 
her — ” He stopped suddenly. “ Look-it that 
auto!” 

Down the street, coming towards them, w'as 
a heavy roadster with two men in it. It was 
moving very slowly. 

“ It is a beauty, but I wonder what it is doing 
in Mulberry Hill.” 

“ I seen bigger ones than that in Mulberry. 
My uncle gets a bigger one when he dies — ” 

“ Could you tell us where the school is ^ ” the 
man nearer Susan called. 

Susan laughed. “ It is right ahead of you — 
that building is a school, not a factory.” 


Brown-Eyed Susan 83 

‘‘ Thank you ! ” and he raised his hat courte- 
ously. 

“ Maybe it is the new janitor or something. 
Maybe he wants to paint a sign on the school,” 
suggested Jerry. 

Susan was puzzled. What was a fine big 
roadster going to the school for at half-past 
four.'^ Perhaps some friend of the new Miss 
Wadleigh. 

“Here she comes again!” Jerry cried 
excitedly. “ She’s on Garibaldi Street. 
Gee!” 

The other man, the one at the wheel, leaned 
forward this time. 

“ You did beautifully before. I want to 
thank you. That was the school! Now, will 
you direct me to Hanover Street ? ” 

“ Hanover Street ! ” Susan’s eyes opened. 
“ It is very long ; it begins in a ditch and ends 
on a hill. Is it the lowlands or the highlands 
that you want ? ” 

The man bent way forward, resting his arms 
upon the wheel. 

“ I just want to ride past 36 Hanover Street. 
Perhaps — ” 

“ Mrs. Weston’s ! ” Susan explained. 


84 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ Yes,” he said. “ For goodness’ sake, is she 
the most famous woman in town that the mere 
passerby knows her ‘number’.^ Some lady, 
eh.^ ” he turned to his friend. 

“ Why, I live there 1 ” explained Susan. The 
car had stopped by the curb and she was stand- 
ing near it. 

He openly stared into Susan’s face and — 

‘‘Miss Yorke!” 

“ Mr. Arden ! ” 

He nearly shook her hand off in his enthusi- 
asm. 

“ My friend — Miss Yorke,” he said, in a 
one-sided introduction. 

“ J ump in ! ” he invited. “ Get in between 
us.” 

“But Jerry — ” Susan hesitated, smiling 
down upon her small escort. Jerry’s eyes were 
nearly popping out of his head. 

“ Get in, Jerry, get in. Sit on the floor — 
there ! ” Snap went the door and the engine 
started. 

“ Oh, gee ! ” gasped Jerry, refusing to sit 
down. He wanted all Mulberry, the whole wide 
world, to see him in this proud and glorious 
situation. The big car crept slowly down the 


Brown-Eyed Susan 85 

muddy road, with a howling crowd of excited 
children after it. 

Susan’s eyes were dancing and Mr. Arden’s 
were twinkling with amusement ; the “ nameless ” 
young man was laughing openly. 

“Got a girl?” questioned Mr. Arden of 
J erry . 

“ Sure ! ” said Jerry. 

“ Call her, then,” came the order. 

Jerry put his hands to his mouth and made a 
megaphone of them. 

“ Conjetta!” 

“ Good heavens ! ” gasped Mr. Arden in hor- 
ror. “ Where in the name of goodness will she 
fit ? Isn’t she married yet ? ” He did not look 
altogether delighted at the prospect. 

But out of the throng shyly came a pretty 
Conjetta with dusky skin and rosy cheeks, 
dainty in spite of her old clothes. 

“Jump in!” and pretty Conjetta stood be- 
side the proud Jerry. 

“ Before we go far let us celebrate this joy- 
ful reunion in a glass of ice cream soda ! ” 

As soon as they reached Woodvale proper 
the car stopped before the finest ice cream “ par- 
lor.” 



But out of the throng 
shyly came — 


86 


87 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

Susan, the nameless young man, Robert Ar- 
den, and the two Italian children sat on tall 
stools at the counter — and waited for the feast. 

Susan touched Douglas on the arm. 

“ I am not going to do it again ; I never have 
since you told me not to, and anyway I haven’t 
ten cents to offer you, as I did long ago.” 
Susan’s face was mischievously penitent. 

Oh ! ” he laughed, the color surging over 
his face. What a pair of sticks we were to 
make a matter out of nothing.” 

The rest of the afternoon they rode up and 
down, in and out of the streets of Woodvale. 
Don White, Douglas’ friend, termed it the 

wildest kind of a lark,” apparently in gentle 
sarcasm, but nevertheless he was enjoying it all 
as something rather novel. He bad never rid- 
den up and down, around about, a small town 
before. 

Finally they left the children at Mulberry 
Hill, two of the proudest little youngsters on 
earth, and started up Hanover Street. 

I am curious to see Mrs. Weston again and 
that ^ front parlor ’ of hers. It was some insti- 
tution ! ” Douglas said as they drew near Num- 
ber 36. 


88 Brown-Eyed Susan 

My mother is here, too ; we had a wedding 
yesterday,” and Susan touched the roses that 
were fading on her dress. 

‘‘ That explains why I have been thinking of 
weddings — or funerals — all afternoon. It 
must have been the smell of those roses. Par- 
don me, I remember you do not care to mention 
smells — Why! You do not turn a hair! 
Can it be that the world has made you callous 
to such coarseness ? ” 

Susan and Douglas exchanged grins of de- 
light at their foolishness. Don smiled, too, 
without knowing what it was all about. When 
in doubt Don always smiled. 

“ There it is — ” Susan explained. 

Mrs. Packer was beside herself with excite- 
ment. 

“ I never would have known you, never ! I’d 
nearly forgotten about you. You changed a 
lot. Didn’t you and Susan, wasn’t you — 
sweet on one another? ” 

Susan made a wry face, and raised her eye- 
brows at Mr. Arden. 

For a minute he was embarrassed — as he 
felt suddenly that it had been very remiss of 


89 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

him not to have been “ sweet ” on Susan. And 
such a thought had never entered his head ! 

Susan understood his embarrassment and it 
amused her. 

He was sweet on me,” she said coolly. 

That is the reason he left after knowing me 
but a month — ” 

Now, see here,” he pleaded, as the others 
laughed at him. 

“ Doug has had so much to say about that 
month and the girl he met that there was noth- 
ing for me to do but come down here and see 
the streets which once she trod.” Don was 
plainly making it up as he went along. 

‘^And we had a wedding here yesterday. 
The bride was another teacher ! ” Mrs. Packer 
interrupted significantly, overjoyed at an op- 
portunity of teasing ” the two young folks. 

They would not stay for supper, but — 

‘‘ I am coming over to Manley ville just as 
soon as you go home. Miss Yorke. Your 
mother invited me. I am coming to see her. 
She likes me and does not try to harrow up my 
young soul.” 

“ Now,” said Mrs. Packer, the second that 
the two men were gone, ‘‘ I always liked him, 


90 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

He fell in love with Susan the first night. I 
remember it all now. I wondered why he went 
away.” 

Mrs. Yorke looked at Susan, plainly puzzled. 

“ I can’t believe that, or Susan would have 
told me.” Mrs. Yorke kept her eyes on Susan’s 
face. Her daughter was smiling brightly, but 
her expression told them nothing. 

“ Susan,” asked Mrs. Weston, “ where are 
your flowers.^ ” 

Then Susan looked surprised — they were 
gone. 

“ He took them ! ” nodded Mrs. Packer. 

“ Silly ! ” smiled Susan. 

“ I saw him,” said Mrs. Yorke, her eyes still 
on Susan’s face. 

As Susan left the room to go upstairs, she 
heard her mother say : 

“ I am living my youth all over again in that 
Susan of mine.” 

Susan put her face into her hands and gave 
a short sigh. “ Probably I shall never see him 
again and they are matchmaking ! ” she faltered 
to herself as she entered her room. 

Over and over whirled the events of the last 
forty-eight hours. Dolly’s tears and Dolly’s 


91 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

joys — the wedding — the bride’s bouquet 
which she had caught — Mr. Arden — the ride 
— his promise to see her again — and her lost 
roses. 

‘‘ I won’t be home for three weeks. Maybe 
he’ll have forgotten by then — ” she mused. 

She thought of Dolly off somewhere with 
Billy on their honeymoon — but a honeymoon 
was like a wedding to her — merely pretty 
words full of romance. She laughed suddenly 
as she thought of another honeymoon. Mr. 
Figurelli had twelve blooming little Figurellis 
and his wife had left for the peace and quiet of 
the grave. Ten days later Mr. Figurelli mar- 
ried a little Italian girl, and so gave his chil- 
dren a step-mother ; and the very next morning 
the teachers saw him and his bride complacently 
digging a garden in their miserable back yard. 

Why did Susan think of this matter of fact 
honeymoon in all her romancing.^ 

But that low gray roadster came to Wood- 
vale many times before Susan left for home. 
Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Packer were all a-flutter, 
Mrs. Yorke was quiet and thoughtful, but her 
eyes shone with a new joy. 


92 Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ Mother ! ” cried Susan, laughing, “ I don’t 
know a thing about him. Maybe he’s a chauf- 
feur and his ‘ boss ’ is abroad.” 

“ Susan ! ” protested Mrs. Yorke. “ Why, 
he couldn’t be. He would have told you.” 

“ But I don’t care ! ” sang Susan, after the 
fashion of the celebrated Eva. “ I don’t 
care ! ” 


CHAPTER IX 


“ Susan ! ” 

“ Yes?” 

“ The car waits.” 

“ I am coming.” And Susan took a long last 
look into her mirror, patting, poking and pull- 
ing at her hair. Then she walked to the door, 
stopped, and returned, head on one side, and 
surveyed herself with a look of disappointment. 

“ Susan ! ” 

« Yes?” 

“You look all right. Come!” 

“ Coming ! ” and Susan flew down the stairs. 

“ Let me look at you ! ” Douglas caught 
Susan by her arms and looked down at her. 

“Now, what is it?” he asked in a puzzled 
fashion. “ If I were not possessed of an en- 
trancing amount of tact, I might say, ‘ Susan 
Yorke, you have changed startlingly in the last 
four years. You are quite bewildering — and 
very much improved.’ But I refrain from mak- 
93 


94 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

ing such a remark; you might infer that I was 
criticizing your past appearance ! ” 

“Do you think me very different?” She 
looked up in frank delight. 

“ Well — ra-ther ! ” 

“Was I — awful?” Susan asked earnestly. 
“ Well, your features are the same and your 
hair is still the same color — so you were hardly 
— awful ! But your whole expression is alto- 
gether new. Besides, you’re different! That 
settles it. I refuse to feel guilty for not suc- 
cumbing to your charms before 1 ” 

“ Douglas 1 ” Susan pleaded in confusion. 
“ Please don’t.” 

“ Don’t what? You dear little goose! You 
lead me on to a compliment, and then you re- 
prove me when I give it to you ! ” 

Susan tried to jerk herself free from his hold. 
“ No, you don’t! You haven’t answered my 
question at all! How have you changed? ” 

“ Well — a — ” Susan looked down in demure 
confusion. “ Well, it’s the expression of my 
hair for one thing — and the character of my 
wardrobe, for another.” 

This was a pretty and interesting tableau for 
Mrs. Yorke as she entered the room. They did 


95 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

not hear her and she was too surprised to say 
anything. She had not heard Susan’s words, 
but she heard Mr. Arden’s answer. 

“ You funny little dear, perhaps you are 
right.” 

It really must have been that simple word 
‘‘ dear,” although modified by “ funny,” which 
made Mrs. Yorke sit down very suddenly. 

Now which of these three was most embar- 
rassed.? Not one of them knew, as each indi- 
vidual gaze was fastened upon the ceiling or the 
floor. There was a large silence. 

“ Good afternoon, Mrs. Yorke,” Douglas 
said, and he removed his hands from Susan’s 
arms — as a worthy afterthought. 

“ Good afternoon, Mr. Arden,” she answered 
formally and solemnly. 

“ Do you know what Douglas was doing. 
Mother.? Well, he was just talking the greatest 
amount of nonsense, and I — ” Susan hesitated. 

Mrs. Yorke nodded knowingly. “ I guess I 
understand,” she said. “ Well now, hurry 
along. This is the best time of the day. Have 
you enough on, Susan.? Be careful of her, Mr. 
Arden, remember that she is all I have.” There 
was the faintest suspicion of a tremor in Mrs. 


96 Brown-Eyed Susan 

Yorke’s voice. And she let them out into the 
gorgeous summer day. 

The world had been swept fresh and clean by 
a violent rainstorm the night before. The smell 
of the good green earth was like a tonic. The 
sky was high and clear and a deep rich blue. 
A perfect midsummer day and these two were in 
all the glory of their own midsummer. 

‘‘ We must get on to the State Road ; every- 
thing else is mud.” 

‘‘ Susan, I am going to tell you a tale, a tale 
full of sound and fury. The hero of this tale 
is a handsome young man, with steely gray eyes 
and a resolute chin. He wears a ten shoe.” 

Susan frowned. “ Don’t tell it to me like 
that, talk sense I ” 

“ What is the matter with that? ” Douglas 
looked pained. “ Well, anyway,” he continued 
soberly, this young man had a poor father and 
a rich uncle. The uncle was unmarried and dis- 
posed to like his nephew. 

‘‘ And so, of course, he sent him to college ; 
that always follows. The first two years the 
young man wasted both his own time and his 
uncle’s money. He seemed to be laboring under 
the delusion that he was a rich man’s son. He 


97 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

couldn’t separate himself from this opinion un- 
til the rich uncle cruelly showed him the truth 
by refusing to be played for a good thing any 
longer. 

“ I think that this brought the young man 
to his senses. He had two years of college to 
his discredit — and nothing else. One day he 
met a friend, who was going to take the state 
‘ exams ’ for teaching, in order to get a license. 
This friend intended to teach for a few years — • 
to gather enough money to finish his education. 
And so this other fellow, this ‘ good-for-noth- 
ing,’ went along and took the examinations too. 
They passed and they both got positions. The 
‘ good-for-nothing ’ made a fizzle of teaching as 
he had of college. He stood it for one month — 
and left in disgrace. He felt, but with a firm 
conviction that the ‘ rich uncle ’ would relent. 
But no such misfortune befell him, he had to 
work out his own salvation as every man should. 

‘‘ College, college, was all he thought of — 
not because he craved an education, but be- 
cause college was his idea of a good time. He 
must get money for it some way. 

“ Finally, he accepted a position as a waiter 
in a big New York restaurant. A classmate. 


98 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

who was working his way through college by the 
sweat of his brow, helped him to get the job. 

One night as he was carrying a tray across 
the floor, a man’s head rose suddenly under the 
tray. Hot cream-of-asparagus soup poured 
all over the head and down its owner’s neck. 

“ The head belonged to the rich uncle — ” 
Douglas stopped a minute, his face painfully 
red. 

“ Susan, you have never known such agony 
as I went through that night; a public horse- 
whipping could not have been worse.” 

Susan touched his arm gently. ‘‘ I ham 
known what public humiliation is. Although 
not deserved, it is none the less hard to bear.” 

‘‘ My uncle was thoroughly disgusted, but not 
too disgusted for words! His words fell fast 
and furious upon me. He was enraged — my 
being a waiter — wasting his money 1 He made 
a scene ! ” 

“ Don’t talk about it,” Susan put in, sympa- 
thetically. 

“ Well,” Douglas went on doggedly, the 
newspapers made capital of it. Somebody got 
good money for a clever write up. I wanted to 
crawl away and hide.” 


99 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

“ But you didn’t? ” Susan’s eyes glowed. 

“No, I didn’t,” he faltered. “ I wish that I 
could say what story books and movie scenarios 
do, that I began at the beginning and proved 
my worth and made a man of myself without any 
assistance. But I didn’t. 

“ My uncle couldn’t stand the newspapers. 
When he read in black and white what he had 
actually said, with a little thrown in for good 
measure, it made him sick. He is a prince 
among men, Susan; he came out the next day 
with a furious tirade on reporters, which made 
another good story. Of course it wasn’t their 
fault — but he defended me. 

“ I refused his offer to go back to college and 
accepted the job he proffered, on one condition, 
which was, that the minute I proved unworthy, 
he should discharge me. We had a written 
agreement — and it hangs over my desk — ” 

“ And it will hang there forever, I know, 
Douglas ! ” 

“ Susan ! ” He looked down into her lovely 
radiant face. 

Susan looked up, and her color fled ; her lips 
parted breathlessly, she lowered her eyes. His 
tone had made her heart throb in a very un- 


100 Brown-Eyed Susan 

usual manner. She tried to say something but 
she could not speak. Once more she raised her 
eyes and tried to meet the frank avowal in his 
steady gaze. 

“ Susan — I love you ! ” 

She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. He 
bent towards her. 

‘‘You’re going to kiss me!” she cried in a 
panic. 

“ Why — yes,” he answered tenderly, and he 
did just that ! 

“ Oh, Douglas ! ” and her arms stole about his 
neck. “ I love you, too.” 

Then suddenly she cried out, “ Douglas, we 
are on the State Road ! ” 

“ It has been done before on the State Road,” 
he reassured her ; “ ever since the world be- 
gan — ” 

“ Douglas, see ! ” And waving in the soft 
summer breeze was a field of “ brown-eyed 
Susans.” 

“ Brown-eyed Susans,” but he had eyes for 
but one Brown-eyed Susan. 

The low gray roadster crept along in the late 
afternoon of that midsummer day, the purple 


101 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

shadows stealing over them. The car was 
loaded down with brown-eyed Susans. 

“ The shadows, see, they are falling,” Susan 
said softly, but with eyes unafraid. 



He had eyes for hut one 
Brown-eyed Susan, 


It is the shadows that make the day so rich 
and glorious. Dark and light — sunshine and 
shadow,” Douglas said. 

Lovers on a midsummer day, just two lovers, 
and who wouldn’t be a lover for a day? 

Mrs. Yorke was waiting for them. Susan 
held the flowers before her face and fled up- 
stairs. 


102 


Brown-Eyed Susan 

‘‘Susan!” called Mrs. Yorke into the dusk 
of her daughter’s room. “ Susan I ” 

And Susan threw her arms about her mother’s 
neck and cried, just as Dolly had done upon her 
wedding morning. 

“There, my baby!” Mrs. Yorke’s voice 
broke. 

Why did they cry, these two women, when 
never in all their lives had they known such per- 
fect joy? 


Brown-Eyed Susan 


103 


L’ENVOI 

‘‘ Susan, I wonder if I could make your wed- 
ding dress ? ” 

“ Do you want to very much, Mother dear? ” 

“ Your wedding dress, of all dresses ! But I 
think perhaps you would better help me. Per- 
haps, if you could get one of those patterns, — 
somehow I have lost my knack, I am afraid, in 
these last few years — ” 

‘‘We shall make it together, with a pattern. 
Mother. That would be really wonderful. I 
have my own idea of a bride’s gown.” 

“ So have I,” Mrs. Yorke agreed. “ Just a 
misty white flowery creation.” 

Susan laughed happily. “ Just so. Mother ; 
‘ misty ’ and ‘ flowery ’ enough to hide perhaps 
a little lack of knack ! ” 


THE END 




























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